From The Diary Of Miss Cecily Cardew
by Scribe Of All Trades
Summary: A prequel of sorts to The Importance of Being Earnest, told from Cecily's point-of-view...
1. Introductions

**This is sort of a prequel to Oscar Wilde's _The Importance of Being Earnest _that I wrote for my Dramatic Literature class. It's told from the point of view of Cecily, through her diary because I just thought that would be hilarious, seeing as she is such an amusing character.**

**Disclaimer: All random lines from the play and characters mentioned belong to the great master of 19th-Century repartée, Oscar Wilde. So please don't sue me as I am but a poor and humble college student.**

* * *

**_The Diary of Miss Cecily Cardew_**

("…simply a very young girl's record of her own thoughts and impressions and consequently meant for publication.")

_**Message From the Editor:**_

_**The content in this diary has been largely edited from the "Early Years," of its original three-volume entirety. This is **_**no****_ joke. It has been published through a request that was posted in the lady in question' s Last Will and Testament. If the reader finds any of this content offensive in any way, we apologize. Any efforts to pursue the matter further in a court of law will prove futile as we take _no_ responsibility._**

Dear Diary,

Pray, let me introduce myself. My name is Cecily Cardew. I know that we shall become _**great**_ friends. You shall know all of my innermost, personal thoughts and feelings. You are simply a very young girl's record of her own thoughts and impressions, and consequently meant for publication. Miss Prism says that I should not keep a diary. She says that they are silly and wasteful. I say that _**she**_ is silly and wasteful.

Oh, I have forgot to mention who Miss Prism is. She is my kind, but very often—_**daft**_ governess. We live here on the Manor with Uncle Jack. Uncle Jack is my guardian. When my grandfather, a Mr. Thomas Cardew, passed on, he left me in the charge of Uncle Jack, whom he treated as his own son. Uncle Jack is extremely kind and has treated me nothing short of being like a daughter.

There is also Merriman—the Butler, Moulton—the Gardener, and many other servants as well. Well, I am tired now Diary. I shall talk to you in the morning. Good Night!

Yours fondly,

Cecily Cardew

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	2. Men

**Disclaimer: All random lines from the play and characters mentioned belong to the great master of 19th-Century repartée, Oscar Wilde. So please don't sue me as I am but a poor and humble college student.**

* * *

Dear Diary,

My lessons are so shockingly tedious. They bore me absolutely to death. It would be quite different if we learned something worthwhile, like Greek Mythology or the Life and Times of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Sadly, all Miss Prism ever rambles on about is all of this nonsense about these silly, European Kings who fought silly, useless and bloody battles over trivial matters like land disputes. I mean, honestly! It is utter nonsense. Why can't one just approach the other civilly, like gentlemen and come to an agreement. I mean—really—men are _**so**_ difficult.

Yours fondly,

Cecily Cardew

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	3. German and Ernest

**Disclaimer: All random lines from the play and characters mentioned belong to the great master of 19th-Century repartée, Oscar Wilde. So please don't sue me as I am but a poor and humble college student.**

* * *

Dear Diary,

Today, we are starting our German lessons. Uncle Jack demanded that we stop our French lessons immediately and begin German. He says that it is vulgar and unfashionable to speak French nowadays, and that German is a nice, safe language. If you ask me, Diary, I say that German is the vulgar and unfashionable language. Honestly, I think that "Bonjour, Mademoiselle" sounds much pleasanter than "Guttentag Frauline" or however it is you spell it, don't you? French is so much more…_**romantic**_. I feel that the people Uncle Jack associates himself with in London are quite peculiar, dull and definitely old-fashioned. They sound utterly and tragically deplorable.

Uncle Jack is always going off to London more than often these days. I hope that he is quite well, because very often I get the feeling that he is quite not. It must be because of his very disillusioned brother, Ernest. I do wish dear Uncle Jack would allow his dear brother, Ernest to visit us in the country sometime so that we may have a more positive influence on him. You see, ever since dear Uncle Jack first confessed to us that he had a younger brother who was very wicked and bad, he of course has formed the chief topic of conversation between myself and Miss Prism. And of course a man who is much talked about is always very attractive. One feels there must be something in him, after all. I daresay it is foolish of me, but I have fallen in love with Ernest.

I must also confess to you, Diary—now, you must _**not**_ laugh at me—but it has always been a girlish dream of mine to love some one whose name was Ernest. There is something in that name that seems to inspire absolute confidence. I pity any poor married woman whose husband is _**not **_called Ernest. Can you even imagine being engaged to a man called—oh, I don't know—Algernon, perhaps? Algy, for short? How utterly deplorable! I believe that "Algy" is what Moulton calls the little green specks that float on top of the pond sometimes, usually right before it is due for a proper cleaning. How terribly revolting! I might respect a man called Algernon. I might even admire his character, but I fear that I should not be able to give him my _**undivided**_ attention.

Oh well, I suppose that we must sit here and wait patiently for my Prince Charming.

Yours fondly,

Cecily Cardew

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	4. A Very Short Engagement

**Disclaimer: All random lines from the play and characters mentioned belong to the great master of 19th-Century repartée, Oscar Wilde. So please don't sue me as I am but a poor and humble college student.**

* * *

Dear Diary,

Another boring German lesson in the Garden today, although the weather remains quite pleasant. Mr. Ernest Worthing and I have been secretly engaged for a month now. As you already know, my dearest confidante, worn out by Ernest's entire ignorance of my existence, I determined to end the matter one way or the other, and after a long struggle with myself I accepted him under this dear old tree here. The next day, I bought this little ring in his name and I now wear this little bangle with the true lover's knot. I have vowed to him that it shall never leave my finger. I must say that my darling Ernest has _**wonderfully**_ good taste. It is indeed the only excuse that I can give him for living such a wickedly bad life.

I write to Ernest three times a week and sometimes oftener. Now Diary, I know what you are thinking. How in heaven's name is it possible for a naïve, young lady such as myself to correspond with a man who is completely ignorant of my entire existence? Well, I need hardly confess to you that I have been forced to write all of Ernest's letters for him.

And as you also know, my dearest Diary, I was forced to break off my engagement with Ernest earlier this week. I felt that it was better to do so. The three letters that he wrote to me after I broke off the engagement are so beautiful and so badly spelled that I can hardly read them without crying a little. You will be absolutely thrilled to know that I have now resolved to accept him with open arms. He is the keeper of my heart and the _**only**_ man that I could ever love, after all.

Yours fondly,

Cecily Cardew

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	5. Ways To Get His Attention

**Disclaimer: All random lines from the play and characters mentioned belong to the great master of 19th-Century repartée, Oscar Wilde. So please don't sue me as I am but a poor and humble college student.**

* * *

Dear Diary,

Silly, ignorant boy! My darling Ernest still does not have the slightest idea that I even exist. Won't he be surprised when we finally meet! _**If**_ we finally meet, that is. Lately, I have been thinking up ways to get his attention. I have received many motivations from my book on Great Romantic Paintings.

I suppose I could chain myself naked to a cliff, like when the Gods chained Andromeda to be sacrificed to a giant sea-serpent, and than Ernest, like Perseus would come and rescue me. Although, I don't enjoy heights very much, and being naked by the terribly drafty seaside, I would probably catch pneumonia. Then, I thought about how Cleopatra hid herself naked in a Persian rug. I could roll out of the rug right in front of Ernest as Cleopatra did to Julius Caesar. Although, I am quite allergic to most Persian rugs and it would probably make my skin itch and break out into a rash. Oh well, I suppose we will just have to keep looking, Diary.

Yours fondly,

Cecily Cardew

P.S. The weather still continues charming.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please review! I know that it was short, but like I said before, it was just a short excercise for class.**


End file.
